Università di Roma “Tor Vergata”
Letteratura Angloamericana I Mod. B
A.A. 2011/12
William Dean Howells
Italian Journeys
ROMAN PEARLS.
The first view of the ruins in the Forum brought a keen sense
of disappointment. I knew that they could only be mere fragments
and rubbish, but I was not prepared to find them so. I learned that
I had all along secretly hoped for some dignity of neighborhood, some
affectionate solicitude on the part of Nature to redeem these works of
Art from the destruction that had befallen them. But in hollows
below the level of the dirty cowfield, wandered over by evil-eyed buffaloes, and obscenely
defiled by wild beasts of men, there stood here an arch, there a pillar, yonder a cluster of columns
crowned by a bit of frieze; and yonder again, a fragment of temple, half-gorged by the façade of a
hideous Renaissance church; then a height of vaulted brick-work, and, leading on to the Coliseum,
another arch, and then incoherent columns overthrown and mixed with dilapidated walls—mere
phonographic consonants, dumbly representing the past, out of which all vocal glory had departed.
The Coliseum itself does not much better express a certain phase of Roman life than does the Arena
at Verona; it is larger only to the foot-rule, and it seemed not grander otherwise, while it is vastly
more ruinous. Even the Pantheon failed to impress me at first sight, though I found myself disposed
to return to it again and again, and to be more and more affected by it.
Modern Rome appeared, first and last, hideous. It is the least interesting town in Italy,
and the architecture is hopelessly ugly—especially the architecture of the churches. The Papal
city contrives at the beginning to hide the Imperial city from your thought, as it hides it in
such a great degree from your eye, and old Rome only occurs to you in a sort of stupid
wonder over the depth at which it is buried. […]
Indeed, it seems to me that all moisture of romance and adventure has been wellnigh
sucked out of travel in Italy, and that compared with the old time, when the happy wayfarer
journeyed by vettura through the innumerable little states of the Peninsula,—halted every other mile
to show his passport, and robbed by customs officers in every color of shabby uniform and
every variety of cocked hat,—the present railroad period is one of but stale and insipid flavor.
Much of local life and color remains, of course; but the hurried traveller sees little of it, and, passed
from one grand hotel to another, without material change in the cooking or the methods of
extortion, he might nearly as well remain at Paris. The Italians, who live to so great extent by the
travel through their country, learn our abominable languages and minister to our detestable
comfort and propriety, till we have slight chance to know them as we once could,—musical,
picturesque, and full of sweet, natural knaveries, graceful falsehood, and all uncleanness.
Rome really belongs to the Anglo-Saxon nations, and the Pope and the past seem to be carried
on entirely for our diversion.
A Traveler from Altruria
"What a charming young creature!" he began. "I never saw anything prettier than the way she had
of refusing my help, absolutely without coquetry or affectation of any kind. She is, as you said, a
perfect lady, and she graces her work, as I am sure she would grace any exigency of life. She
quite realizes my ideal of an American girl, and I see now what the spirit of your country must
be from such an expression of it."
Prof. Elisabetta Marino
[email protected]
3
Università di Roma “Tor Vergata”
Letteratura Angloamericana I Mod. B
A.A. 2011/12
I wished to tell him that while a country school-teacher who waits at table in a summer hotel is very
much to be respected in her sphere, she is not regarded with that high honor which some other
women command among us; but I did not find this very easy, after what I had said of our
esteem for labor; and while I was thinking how I could hedge, my friend went on.
"I liked England greatly, and I liked the English, but I could not like the theory of their
civilization or the aristocratic structure of their society. It seemed to me iniquitous, for we
believe that inequality and iniquity are the same in the last analysis."
At this I found myself able to say: "Yes, there is something terrible, something shocking, in the
frank brutality with which Englishmen affirm the essential inequality of men. The affirmation of
the essential equality of men was the first point of departure with us when we separated from
them."
"I know," said the Altrurian. "How grandly it is expressed in your glorious Declaration!"
"Ah, you have read our Declaration of Independence, then?"
"Every Altrurian has read that," answered my friend.
"Well," I went on smoothly, and I hoped to render what I was going to say the means of
enlightening him without offence concerning the little mistake he had just made with the waitress,
"of course we don't take that in its closest literality."
"I don't understand you," he said.
"Why, you know it was rather the political than the social traditions of England that we broke
with, in the Revolution."
"How is that?" he returned. "Didn't you break with monarchy and nobility, and ranks and
classes?"
"Yes, we broke with all those things."
"But I found them a part of the social as well as the political structure in England. You have no
kings or nobles here. Have you any ranks or classes?"
"Well, not exactly in the English sense. Our ranks and classes, such as we have, are what I may
call voluntary."
"Oh, I understand. I suppose that from time to time certain ones among you feel the need of serving,
and ask leave of the commonwealth to subordinate themselves to the rest of the state and perform
all the lowlier offices in it. Such persons must be held in peculiar honor. Is it something like
that?"
"Well, no, I can't say it's quite like that. In fact I think I'd better let you trust to your own
observation of our life."
Prof. Elisabetta Marino
[email protected]
4
Università di Roma “Tor Vergata”
Letteratura Angloamericana I Mod. B
A.A. 2011/12
"But I'm sure," said the Altrurian, with a simplicity so fine that it was a long time before I could
believe it quite real, "that I shall approach it so much more intelligently with a little instruction from
you. You say that your social divisions are voluntary. But do I understand that those who serve
among you do not wish to do so?"
"Well, I don't suppose they would serve if they could help it," I replied.
"Surely," said the Altrurian, with a look of horror, "you don't mean that they are slaves."
"Oh no! oh no!" I said; "the war put an end to that. We are all free now, black and white."
"But if they do not wish to serve, and are not held in peculiar honor for serving—"
"I see that my word 'voluntary' has misled you," I put in. "It isn't the word exactly. The divisions
among us are rather a process of natural selection. You will see, as you get better acquainted with
the workings of our institutions, that there are no arbitrary distinctions here but the fitness of the
work for the man and the man for the work
determines the social rank that each one holds."
"Ah, that is fine!" cried the Altrurian, with a glow
of enthusiasm. "Then I suppose that these
intelligent young people who teach school in
winter and serve at table in the summer are in a
sort of provisional state, waiting for the process
of natural selection to determine whether they
shall finally be teachers or waiters."
"Yes, it might be stated in some such terms," I
assented, though I was not altogether easy in my
mind. It seemed to me that I was not quite candid
with this most candid spirit. I added: "You know we
are a sort of fatalists here in America. We are great
believers in the doctrine that it will all come out
right in the end."
Prof. Elisabetta Marino
[email protected]
5